Helter Skelter
by Clara
Summary: Three pairs, brought together not out of want but by necessity. One for a job, one through a favor, and one due to boredom. In a society where everything is set to perfection, it's no surprise things tend to get out of control. TP, GB, UM
1. Prospects and Problems

**Author Notes:** This is a start to a multi-chapter fic involving three main couples, Trunks/Pan, Goten/Bra, and Uub/Marron. It was inspired in part by Witchyprincess' "RainWater", which I thoroughly enjoyed.

**Rating:** As of now, T for language. This is subject to change.

ooooo

"You need a job."

Pan choked on a bit of her bagel—her father surprised her by his speculation to the point that a piece of the bread got lodged in her wind pipe. Wouldn't that be funny, a girl named Pan being killed by bread. The irony was not lost on her, but she couldn't laugh because she couldn't breathe. Her mother saved her from such a brutal fate by smacking her solidly on the back and dislodging the piece of bagel from her throat.

Gohan gave her a slightly panicked look. "Are you okay?" asked he, fully aware that he—

"You nearly killed me," Pan said, a wry grin touching her lips.

"Remember, you should always chew twenty times before you—"

"Bad advice, Dad." Pan took a sip of her orange juice, soothing her throat. "Saiyajins don't chew. We inhale."

He had to admit she had a point. Shaking his head, he changed the subject back to their original topic on hand. "You still need a job. If just a summer one, at least, to give you experience in the work field. Your mother and I can't continue to support you for forever."

"I know that," Pan snapped, clearly offended. "In fact, I just had an interview yesterday."

"Ah, yes, I heard about that," Gohan said, dryly. "What did you do again? From what I heard, you creamed your interviewer a good one."

"He was staring at my chest!"

"Pan." It was her mother who answered this one—there was no way Gohan would object to Pan beating the snot out of anyone who looked at her inappropriately. In fact, he looked as if he was about to find the interviewer _himself_ in order to give him another black eye. "You can't go around hitting everyone who checks you out. You're an adult now, and men will be attracted to you."

"I'm not about to work in a place where there's the threat of me being leered at all the time." Pan knew, at least, that she had her father's full support on that one. Gohan sighed and sipped his coffee.

"I completely agree with you, sweetie, but that doesn't change the fact that you need a job."

Pan stuffed the rest of her bagel in her mouth, giving her father an annoyed look. "All right, all right, fine." Her mouth was still full, and her mother gave her such a disapproving look that she swallowed before she continued with her sentence. "I'll go job hunting today."

**Helter-Skelter**  
Chapter One: Prospects and Problems  
by Clara

"I think my parents are trying to get rid of me."

On the other end of the line, a deep voice huskily chuckled. She had been dating Tote for nearly a year, and his laughter still managed to bring a smile to her face.

"Can you blame them? You've been living in their house for twenty-two years now, it's no surprise they would want some alone time together, again."

"You always know how to make a girl blush, sweetheart," Pan grumbled, sarcastically. She was standing in front of a bookstore, wondering if she should pick up an application. It didn't seem reasonable—what experience would she get with working with books? Organization? That would look good on her resume. 'I have hands on experience with putting things in alphabetical order'. But then again, it _would_ be a job, and that would get her parents to shut up, at least for a little bit.

"It's a gift." She could hear Tote shuffle something around. Possibly he was rearranging some papers on his desk. "Pan, I still think you should come live with me. You won't even have to get a job. I promise I'll take care of you."

Oh, Dende. Why did the conversation always have to lead to this?

"Tote, we've had this conversation before. Just last week, even! I've already told you, I'm not ready for that step yet."

"We've been together for ten and a half months. Hasn't that been enough time _to_ get ready? How long are you going to make me wait?"

"Until I'm good and ready," she said, frankly.

"Pan—"

"Pan?"

The black haired girl turned around, looking surprised. Bra Briefs pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, showing just how wide her eyes got at seeing her old friend. Her arms were weighed down with bags, which was no _real_ surprise, but she looked great. Her jeans were slightly loose and hung off slender hips, torn at the knees (because that was today's style and Bra was _always_ in style) and she was wearing a cream sweater with a drapy neck.

"Tote, I'm going to have to go." What a relief. Bra had perfect timing—now she could avoid the topic for another day. "I've just ran into an old friend, who I haven't seen in ages. I'll call you back later, okay?"

Tote made a frustrated sound, and she could picture him running his fingers through his hair in annoyance. "Fine. Call me later." He hung up before she could say good-bye, and she snapped her phone shut. She'll have to talk to him about _that_ one.

But she could worry about that another time. Pan turned her full attention to her blue haired friend. "Bra!" Let bygones be long and gone, she ordered herself, and smiled brightly.

"Pan, you look great!" Her eyes said the same thing that was going through Pan's mind—where have you been? Why haven't you called? Pan supposed their expressions also mirrored—guilty as charged. She couldn't accuse Bra for disappearing from her life for four years like so, they both had their own lives to lead. Besides, _she_ could have made the effort to call Bra, too.

The blue haired princess dropped her bags to envelope her old friend in a tight hug. "Seriously, though. You look great. How have you been? What are you doing standing in front of a bookstore?"

Pan had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. Compliments from Bra were always humbling—the girl always looked as if she stepped straight from the glossy pages of a fashion magazine. Pan, on the other hand, couldn't help but to feel a bit plain next to her childhood comrade. She usually had her hair pulled in a tight ponytail, and her jeans cost twenty to Bra's two hundred, and her long sleeved gray shirt was slightly faded from the wash.

"I've been good and—" Here was the embarrassing part. Really, a twenty-two year old looking for a job at a bookstore? She was better than that. But Pan never kept things from Bra back when they were younger, and that old trust was still there. "Well, I was going to pick up an application."

Bra gave Pan a bemused look, then glanced back to the store. She looked at Pan again, and scrunched her nose.

"In there."

"Well, yes." She kicked lightly at the ground, embarrassed. "Take what you can get." She was no billionaire like her friend, and likely never would be. Especially not if she got a job at a bookstore.

"That would be a horrible job."

"I know, but I don't really have a choice."

Bra chewed on the corner of her lip for a second, thinking. "Well, I could always get you a job..."

Both of them grimaced. The idea of a Son working under a Briefs was kind of a tender one—neither of them liked being in debt to the other. Besides, their pride always tended to get in the way. Bra opened her mouth to apologize, but Pan jumped the gun.

"Okay."

Immediately, Bra's mouth snapped shut (and Pan had to be slightly amused—her teeth clicked together). "Uh."

"I'm desperate, and frankly, I don't like the idea of working in retail. What's your idea?"

"Well." Bra still looked slightly baffled. She had not expected Pan to agree so readily. "Well, Trunks really needs a secretary." Again, both girls grimaced. Working under a Briefs was bad enough, but having to work as a personal secretary for one? Pan would never do it.

"No."

"Oh, come on! It would just be a temporary thing, I promise. Trunks would promote you to something bigger in no time. You're like _family_."

"I'm not the 'secretary' type. Isn't there some sort of quota you have to fill? Wouldn't my chest need to five times the size of my brain and my IQ lower than the number on my bra tag?"

Bra had to grin at that. "Trunks tried that with his last secretary—Vase, or something. She's left everything a mess, and to top it off, Trunks is being swamped by everything that's not being filtered to him. Like, he has to deal with almost every single call that gets sent through to Capsule Corps., and his important meetings are constantly interrupted by things that can be pushed to a later date. He's completely unorganized right now." Bra's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Daddy said to him, 'serves you right for hiring someone who would be better under a desk than at a desk'."

Pan stared. "_Vegeta_ said that?"

"Mom spit her coffee out and Trunks ended up choking on a piece of bacon. I was laughing so hard I had to leave the room."

"And your dad?"

"Glared, of course. Anyway, what do you say?"

Pan scratched at her chin, thinking. "Well, all right. Fine. I need the money. I gotta get out of my house. Just as long as this is a temporary thing, and I'll get promoted." She'd give it a week. If Trunks decided to take his sweet ass time on it, she'd just have to find another job.

Bra's eyes lit up, and she grinned brightly. "Fantastic. Do you want to get some coffee?"

"Why not? I came here to look for a job—now that I have one, I really have nothing left to do, huh?" Pan smiled back and fell in step with her friend and took some of her bags, the two of them walking in no particular direction. It was a crisp day, with clouds blanketing the sky and promising snow later in the afternoon. Not many people were around, seeming to prefer being at home in the warmth or being stuck at work.

"Speaking of work, Bra, what are you doing? Do you have a job at Capsule Corps.?"

"No. Ha, no. I would never survive there. It's way too boring and filled with stuffed shirts. I've started my own company, actually." Her eyes lit up at the prospect of telling someone new about what she's done with her life, and Pan couldn't blame her for being proud. Starting a company was tough business, even when you had your billionaire family to back you up. "I had some help, of course, but it's my baby."

"Oh yeah? Congrats, Bra. I'm proud of you."

The youngest Briefs ducked her head away, looking slightly embarrassed. "Thanks, Pan. That means a lot. Anyway, I've started a new fashion line. 'Bra Briefs'. We've been up in business for about six months now, and we're just starting to really get out there in the media."

Pan's eyes widened. That certainly was impressive.

"Actually..." Bra looked Pan over, completely indiscreet. The older girl grimaced, not exactly liking her scrutinizing gaze. "You should really do a shoot in some of my wear sometime. You'd make the perfect model."

Pan snorted.

"Really!" Bra emphasized, poking Pan's hip. "You're a looker."

"I'll think about it."

"You should. Now _that's_ where the money really comes in."

Wasn't that funny. Pan had went into town hoping for a job at a retail store, and ended up with one unlikely job and one other just as unlikely job perspective. And both under the Briefs siblings. This should either turn out extremely interesting or a complete disaster. Or both.

ooooo

"I don't need a secretary."

Bra was leaning on the palms of her hands on her brother's desk, glaring at him over the stack of papers that was slowly starting to cover his entire desk. He was glaring back, of course, but it wasn't hard to miss the dark circles around his eyes and the weary lines just barely starting to crease the sides of his mouth. He wasn't getting wrinkles—oh no, he was a _Saiyajin_, after all, and Saiyajins just _don't_ wrinkle, but her brother was exhausted. Which was kind of funny, because Saiyajins usually don't get exhausted, either. He wasn't doing anything strenuous, after all. Then again, that very well could be _why_ he was exhausted. Saiyajins weren't meant to sit behind a desk, even half-Saiyajins.

"Yes, you do."

"I don't want one." He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his knows, as if trying to stem off a headache. "Especially not Pan. My life is already stressful enough."

"Too bad. I've already told her that she's got the job."

"Why can't she work in your company?" He ignored that like she knew he would. Poor boy was under the delusion that he made his own decisions around here. Please. He would do anything his mother or father or sister would tell him to do, and if Bra wanted Pan to be Trunks' secretary, Pan would be Trunks' secretary.

"Because I, dear brother, have everything completely under control. You, on the other hand, are so completely unorganized that it's starting to reflect on our company. It's completely understandable, though. You've got too much on your plate and not enough help. Trust me, Pan working here would be good for both of you guys. She can control your schedule."

"Which is scary enough by its own rights." Trunks sighed and put his glasses back on. "Fine. All right. She can have the damn job. But if anything goes wrong, I'm kicking her out of here in a second, childhood friend or no childhood friend.

Bra smirked and pushed herself off from the table. "I knew you'd see it my way."

"I don't have much a choice. You'd scream it in my ear every day until I relented, if I didn't." He grabbed another paper from the stack and started writing on it before he even read anything. "I want her here by six on Monday."

"Call her yourself, brother. You've got her number. Besides, I have stuff I need to do. Ciao!"

He threw his pen at her, but she made sure to get behind the door before it made impact.

ooooo

Six o'clock. Sixo'fuckingclock. He had to be out of his mind. Absolutely _crazy_. Whowoke up at six these days, let alone have to be at work at that time?

"I want you here at six in the morning. Not a minute late."

And that had been the extent of their conversation. No 'hello', 'how are you', 'I've missed you and can't wait to see you again'. Just a demand and a sort of threat. Not even a 'good-bye'! He hung up on her! What the hell was with men these days? Tote had barely even apologized for _also_ hanging up on her, and Pan couldn't help but to get the feeling that he felt she deserved it. He didn't even congratulate her on her new job. Trunks was already starting to show signs of being an utter control freak. Her father looked about as happy as her telling him that she got a job as Trunks' secretary as she imagine he'd be at her telling him that she's finally lost her mind and had decided to move in with Tote. It was like there was something in the air, causing all the testosterone in the world to turn into some bastard hormone.

And there she was, standing at a bare desk, at 5:57. In the morning. The large doors to Trunks' office were closed, and she bitterly wondered how long it would take him to come out and give her an orientation. Or if he was even here. As far as she knew, he was still asleep. The jerk _would_ do something like that to her.

But at exactly six on the dot, Trunks stepped out of his office, freshly showered. His hair was combed back, he wore his three piece suit like a second skin, and a pair of wire rimmed glasses rested on his nose. For a long moment the two just stared at each other. Pan was rendered immobile—it was as if something coiled in her stomach and froze all of her limbs. From fear? It was impossible to tell. Trunks didn't move either, but his face was so carved in stone that she didn't even try to guess what he was thinking.

"It's good to see you," she tried, offering a weak smile. But he didn't smile back, and hers faltered and died away.

"Same to you."

Their formalities died at that, and Pan felt a bit gypped. Though she rarely imagined what their reunion would be like (but she had to admit—sometimes she thought about it), this was hardly what she expected.

"Well, where should we start?" She kept the desk between them, having a sort of funny idea that that the object would protect her.

"You'll be answering my calls. I want you to filter out anything that is unimportant—send them straight to my voicemail." Leave it to Trunks to jump straight past any possible awkward small talk. "There's a button on your phone that will send the call through to my office, but you're only allowed to do so if it's something vital. Anybody who wishes to see me personally will have to go through you, first. An intercom connects our desks—always ask me before sending someone in. You will be filing. All the cabinets are in my office. Basically, you do what I tell you to do, when I need you."

Pan's lips thinned. He read her expression, and if possible his stony expression became harder.

"It's not like it used to be, Pan. There'll be no battles for dominance, here. I'm the boss. You're my employee. Here, you call me sir."

Pan grit her teeth and nodded once.

"Is there anything else?"

Though she had more questions, pride held her back. If she needed anything else, she would figure it out herself. "No, sir." She tagged on the last bit, and hoped her tone wasn't _too_ furious. There was no way she would be able to put up with this past a week. Not from someone who had once played a hugely significant role in her life.

"Good. If you need anything, I'll be in my office. Don't be afraid to ask." He gave her a wan smile, then went straight back into his office.

ooooo

"Your brother is a prick."

Bra settled down in a seat across from Pan, raising her eyebrows. "Well, hello to you, too. Have you ordered yet?"

"No, I was waiting for you." Her black haired friend ran her fingers a bit roughly through her hair, a habit Bra had never seen before. Maybe because Pan hadn't ditched that tacky bandana until probably recently. "I quit."

Bra rolled her eyes and picked up a menu, scanning the items. "I think I'll order the spaghetti, for starters. With or without meatballs?"

"With. I think I'll go for the fettuccini, for now. Kudos for choosing Italian. I think I'll put in my resignation, tomorrow."

Bra sighed and put down her menu, already deciding that she would try everything on the menu at least once. And if she liked one plate enough, she may have it for seconds. "No you won't."

"Yes I will. He's being a total jerk! It's like, seventeen years have been just thrown down the drain. He didn't even say _hi_ to me. Not even a real smile. I hate him."

"You do not." Bra tore off a piece of bread and started on one of the corners, picking it apart delicately with well manicured fingers. "You love him just as much as I do. And you're not going to quit, either."

"I will if he keeps acting like he's got a whole _tree_ up his ass, forget one stick."

"Come on now, sweetie. We're talking about my brother here." Although Bra understood where Pan was coming from _completely_, she didn't like hearing Trunks being talked about like so. Perhaps she was just being overprotective.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated, I guess."

"And you probably have every right to be. Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No. Dende, no. He'll probably get mad at me for running to you."

The waiter came by and the two placed their orders, Bra ignoring the awed stare he was giving them, and Pan looking slightly embarrassed by it.

"Well, if you're getting _too_ frustrated by it, remember that my job offer is still up. In fact, we're doing a shoot tomorrow. Convenient, huh?" Bra didn't tell her friend that she had pulled some strings to get that. In truth, Bra really wanted Pan to model some of her clothing. Her wild friend had grown up quite nicely—gone was the tomboy attire, replaced with a more casual look. Pan hadn't necessarily cut off all ties with her wear, though, and that was easy enough to see. Her outfits did nothing to flatter her curves, it seemed as if no make-up had touched her face (ever), and her nails were ragged and chewed down to the pink.

But there was something wildly exotic about the girl, a beauty that was apparent even without the make-up and fancy clothing and manicured nails. Perhaps it was several generations of good genes—all the Son's were beautiful in their own way.

Pan looked thoughtful, taking a sip from her water. "I don't see why you want me."

"You'd bring in the sales."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"I try not to. But I'll think about it."

That was pretty much a guaranteed affirmative. Bra smirked and leaned back as the blushing waiter set their plates in front of them.

"So, tell me about your day."

Pan scowled and took several bites before saying anything. "The only thing that could have rivaled the amount of calls I had to deal with today was the amount of paperwork Trunks had me type up." The scowl got a little worse, as Pan apparently seemed to relive her day. "And then all that paperwork I typed up had to be filed. While I was still answering calls. He's kindly supplied me with an earpiece so I can multitask. His office is a disaster, by the way."

"Well, it _has_ been awhile since Trunks has had someone help him out..."

"Then, after I finished filing, I had to reorganize the entire thing because it _had_ no particular order."

"I'm telling you, Vase left the place a mess."

"He also had me get eight cups of coffee for him."

"Okay, now that's just lame."

Their food was quickly disappearing, but to an outside observer they appeared full of grace, even with Pan's scowl.

"To top it off, it seemed like everyone who works at Capsule Corps. wanted to introduce themselves to me. Or stare at me. And gossip—I think I heard someone talking about my waist size in the break room. Or they could have been talking about my brain size." If possible, the scowl got worse.

"Relax, honey, you look like you're about to kill something." Bra started on the meatball, trying to cut it with her fork. "You know, no matter how many times I've used these utensils, I don't think I'll ever get used to them. You think I'd look weird asking for some chopsticks?" The abrupt change of topic did seem to soften Pan's face a bit. "Anyway..." There was no real delicate way to approach the subject, so Bra just decided to throw it out there. "You've got to understand that there's a sort of title that comes with being Trunks' secretary."

"What's that?"

"Well..."

"Well, what?"

"The general idea people get is that since you're Trunks' secretary, you're sleeping with him."

"People think I'm having _sex_ with him!"

Several heads turned quickly. Bra gave them all a chilly smile and then turned her attention back to Pan. "Could we say that a little louder? I don't think the people down the street heard you."

"I'm not—would _not_—do anything like that with your brother," Pan hissed, leaning over the table confidentially. "From how he acts, he'd probably pull the whole 'dominant' role in bed. Like, he's got to call the shots or it's a no go."

"First of all," Bra said, stabbing her fork in Pan's direction. She looked amused. "I don't ever want to hear about my brother's sex life. Ever. Second of all, never say never. Third of all, how did you get so knowledgeable about the roles of sex?"

Pan had the decency to look flustered. "I'm not completely inexperienced, you know?"

"Well, actually I don't know. We haven't had a talk like this since we were in our teens. Spill."

"I have a boyfriend, for one."

"Really!" At Pan's offended look, Bra grinned a bit. "Sorry. Okay, give me the details. I want to know everything."

"There's nothing to know."

"Liar. Give me all the juicy details. How is he in bed?" Bra leaned forward, eyes sparkling with interest. "What's he look like? I bet he's a stud. Tell me."

Pan blushed and shook her head. "How about if I introduce you to him? We could do lunch."

Bra waved a hand, but nodded slightly. Yes. That would do. But that didn't mean she would allow her friend get away with all the juicy-ness. She waved the waiter over and they put in their order for seconds, despite the strange looks people were starting to give them.

"We've got all night, and I'm all ears. Start talking."

"I met him in one of my classes."

"Annnnd?" She drew out the word, grinning.

"And he asked me to coffee." Pan took a moment to grab a piece of bread, most likely to prolong continuing the story to torture Bra. "Pretty soon it became a habit. Every Tuesday, we would go out and have coffee together, and then the coffee places turned into restaurants, and then it just sort of...went from there."

"How's he in bed?" Bra asked, bluntly.

Pan blushed. She leaned over, seemed to debate with herself about it for a minute, then sighed and gave Bra a dirty look. "He's good."

"Good? Just good? Not fantastic? Not amazing? He doesn't give you earth shattering org—"

"_Bra_!"

"What?"

"He's good. And we're leaving it at that. Why don't _you_ tell me about _your_ sex life?"

"Don't have one."

Pan looked shocked.

"Oh, don't give me that look. I'm just...waiting for the right guy. None of the ones I've dated so far have interested me. I mean _really_ interested me. They're just in it for the money. I always end up telling them, 'if I wanted a manwhore, I would have purchased one'." She tore off a piece of bread, defiantly, while Pan gawked. "They just don't understand me."

"Ah, yes, the perplexing woman." Pan regained her composure and sipped some of her water, and the waiter came back to place their food in front of them.

"We have to have _some_ sort of mystique."

"Not many men would probably be able to handle you, anyway. Bra Briefs, daughter of a billionaire, daughter of the Prince of Saiyajins, owner of, from what I'm hearing, a successful business—yeah, I could imagine why most men would either just stick with the safe stuff, and by that I mean money, or run away screaming."

"And here I always thought I had something in my teeth." Bra grinned cheekily. "Think we should put in a third order yet, or should we give the waiter some time?"

Pan looked down at her plate, surprised to see it was almost completely cleaned. "We should probably slow down. Don't want people to talk, or anything. Did I _really_ eat it that fast?"

"It was kind of amazing, really." Bra still had half her plate to go, but it was disappearing rapidly.

"I'm still hungry."

"Like I said, dinner's on me. Eat to your heart's content!"

"Your words, not mine." Pan worked on the bread while Bra finished off her plate, resting her chin in hand.

"Will I be seeing you tomorrow at the shoot?"

"Maybe I'll swing by so you can show me around, but I don't think I can suddenly jump in to doing a model shoot. It's...a bit much for me."

Bra silently cheered. As long as Pan was there, everything should work accordingly. Pan was easy to wear down, once she got started. She wasn't very good at saying no, especially not to people who were so close to her—and Bra was definitely going to take advantage of that.

_end chapter one_

It takes me awhile to update. This is not because I'm lazy or anything like that, but I have a lot of other aspects in my life that holds me back from fanfic writing. I have a job, I am a full time college student, and my boyfriend demands a large amount of my time. Also, I'm not really good at cranking out chapters—it takes me more than a couple days (sometimes even a couple weeks) just to complete a chapter. But I did really enojoy writing this story, so hopefully I'll be able to put the next part up soon.


	2. Situation Normal, All Fucked Up

**A/N:** I love the other relationships in DBGT. And by relationships, I don't mean just the romantic kind. There will be huge emphasis on friendship and family relationships in this story, between most the characters.

I also hadn't realized most of the characters' jobs I'm writing about have been done before. I just went for the careers that seemed best for the characters—well, except for Marron's. I chose something a little out of limb for her. I try to keep all my ideas original, but it's hard with such a huge expanse of DBZ fics out there.

Oh, and there are innuendos and bad words all over the place. Just a slight warning.

ooooo

"Good morning, dear."

"Morning, Mom. I left some coffee on the burner for you." Trunks was leaning over the newspaper, a coffee cup in one hand. He didn't have time for breakfast that morning; he would have to just have a large lunch (and Saiyajin for "large lunch" generally meant "very scary").

"Thank you." Trunks watched as his mother poured herself a cup of coffee, looking not at all tired. For her age, she was sprightly as ever—going to bed at odd hours in the morning waking up, never fail, at five-thirty. Trunks asked her why she didn't sleep in one time, and his mother had smiled brightly at him saying simply that once you're older, you tend to form habits, and that ancient people only needed a couple hours to be well rested. He had a lot of respect for his mother. She was quite the lady, brilliant, sophisticated, and in love with the biggest asshole on this side of the universe. Not many people could accomplish such a feat, while at the same time juggling a multibillion dollar corporation.

"What're you reading?"

Trunks dropped his eyes back to the newspaper, having forgotten that he was looking at it in the first place. An article caught his attention, and he smirked a bit. "Well, I was looking at the stocks..."

"But?"

"But it looks like the paparazzi are at it again."

"What did Bra do now?" Bulma sat across from her son, looking resigned at best.

"It looks like her and 'a mysterious black haired female friend'—"

"She's spending more time with Pan again? That's wonderful."

"—ate all the food that new Italian restaurant had to offer."

Bulma frowned. "And how did she take care of the expenses?"

"By putting a dent in my own bank account." Bra strolled in, looking exhausted. "Why on earth do you people wake up so early?"

"Bra," Bulma admonished, ignoring her question. "You need to be smarter about your spending. If you keep at it like this—"

Bra waved a hand and started another cup of coffee. "It won't be happening any time soon. I just hadn't seen Pan in a long time, and we had some catching up to do."

Trunks made a face and picked his newspaper up, hiding behind the print and desperately trying to tune out his sister. He had to put up with Pan every day now (so what if only one day had passed with her? One was enough) and he certainly wasn't keen on having to hear about her in his own home. But if one thing was impossible, it was trying to ignore both his sister and his mother.

"How is Pan doing, anyway? I miss her."

Trunks sighed in resignation and put the paper down on the table.

"She's doing great. You know she's working as Trunks' secretary now, right?"

Bulma's eyebrows shot up. "Really now." She shot an accusing look at her son, and Trunks had the decency to look embarrassed. Bra ignored them both, setting herself up a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, though she doesn't like it very much."

Bulma's accusing look became much nastier, and Trunks scowled back at her. Like it was his fault Pan didn't enjoy her job. That was just a hang up she'd have to deal with herself.

Bra continued to ignore them.

"She's also been dating this guy for nearly a year."

Trunks' looked away from his mother and dedicated his whole attention to his sister. "Really."

"Yeah, but she didn't mention his name. Weird, you'd think she'd talk about him more."

Trunks was frowning, but he wasn't entirely sure why. So what if Pan had a boyfriend? She could take care of herself. But somehow, he couldn't get the image of a much younger Pan out of his mind, and the idea of some guy manipulating her—well, he was allowed to be like a protective older brother, wasn't he? After all, he had a younger sister himself, and if any guy were to even _look_ at her wrong...

He snapped out of his reverie to his sister and his mother staring at him as if he had lost his mind (and he sort of felt like he had).

"What?" he snapped.

"Are you okay, sweetie? You look as if you're about to kill someone," said Bulma, looking startled.

"Yeah, and your energy went up like _crazy_," Bra added.

"Nothing. It's nothing." He stood up abruptly, running his fingers irritably through his hair. "I have to get to work."

But as he was leaving the kitchen, he heard Bra whisper to his mother, "do you think he's jealous?"

**Helter-Skelter**  
Chapter Two: Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.  
By Clara

"Goten. Goten! Pick up your damn phone, I _know_ you're there."

Said Saiyajin rolled over, groaning slightly. He cracked one eye open and frowned. Six-thirty. Who called people at six-thirty? He would take care of it later—whoever had the balls to call him so early would just have to wait.

"GOTEN. If you don't get up and pick up your _damn_ phone right now, I'm going to tell Grandma _just_ what you did last New Years..."

Goten groaned again and pushed himself up, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his knuckles. Slowly (and allowing Pan to screech a bit more), he made his way to the phone. His greeting was a grunt.

"Morning, Uncle. I hope I didn't wake you up!" Goten glared at the wall, knowing that Pan knew that was exactly what she did.

"What do you want?" He grumbled, looking at his reflection in the toaster. Oh, hell. His hair was doing a bad imitation of Vegeta's—standing straight up in the air. He attempted to flatten it, to no avail.

"I need you to pick me up from Bra's studio later."

Goten fell silent, confused. He let her stew for a couple of moments (she deserved it for waking him up so damn early) before finally answering. "Why?"

"Well, I still don't have a car, and Tote is being an asshole, and I can't exactly ask Bra to take me home after she shows me around..."

"Trouble in paradise?" He snorted, but continued before she could respond in defense. Pan knew very well that Goten didn't approve of Tote, but he wasn't in the mood for another one of their disputes. "Whatever. But who cares? You can _fly_, in case you've forgotten."

"Yeah, that slipped right out of my mind." Pan sighed loudly, but her voice was slightly distracted and Goten could hear her typing rapidly away. "I would, but I can't. It wouldn't look good."

"Since when did you care about appearances?"

"Since it ran a risk of ruining Bra's reputation and job. Come _on_, Goten! You're the only sane guy left in my life and besides, I want to see you again."

Goten could hear the pout in Pan's voice, and he smiled a bit, grumpy mood all but dissolving. He never really _could_ stay angry long at his relations, especially not with his niece. "All right, you've convinced me. What time do you want me to pick you up?"

"Well, I get off work at three, so...probably about four-thirty. That'll give her an hour to show me around. How does that sound?"

"Fine. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Of course. Bum."

"Hey, most sane people sleep in until _at least_ seven." He leaned his elbows against his counter, surveying the tiles and thinking about what he would cook himself for breakfast. He always had a soft spot for American food—maybe he'd cook himself a nice, American breakfast. Eggs, maybe. And bacon. And pancakes. Maybe some waffles, if he had any batter left from the pancakes. He mulled over how much effort it would take to cook all of that, and then ducked down to get the rice from his cupboard. If anything, he would cook some rice. That was, at the very least, safe. "Why are you awake, anyway?"

"I have a job, now, didn't I tell you?"

"No." Goten switched the phone to his other ear, dumping two scoops of rice into the cooker. "Where do you work?"

"I'm Trunks' secretary."

Goten dropped the phone.

He took a moment to pick it up, staring at it in astonishment. Pan was Trunks' secretary? Did she not realize what that _entailed_?

"Goten? Goten!" Her voice sounded shrill from the ear piece, and Goten quickly picked it up.

"Are you _mad_?"

"You and Dad! What is the _matter_?"

Goten was furious, that was what the matter was. Did she have any idea what she was getting herself into? "Do you know what being Trunks' secretary means?"

"It means by the end of this month, I'll have enough for a down-payment for my own apartment. Dende, Goten, have you no trust me?"

"It's not _you_ I don't trust."

"So you don't trust your best friend, now?"

"Not after what he's done to his past secretaries!"

"Yeah, well, his past secretaries weren't _me_. I can handle myself, Goten!"

Goten lividly poured some water into the cooker (as if that did anything to soothe his nerves). "Well, if he places one finger on you, you let him know that I'll break his teeth."

"Whatever. Look, just pick me up from Bra's studio at four-thirty, okay? There's a call on the other line, and Trunks told me specifically that I'm not allowed to have any outside calls. Here's a thought—maybe you should stop by and have lunch with Trunks. Maybe that would get the stick out of his ass."

Goten snorted, said his goodbyes, and hung up the phone. Though part of him was still irritated at Trunks, another part was slightly guilty. Pan was right. He hadn't seen his friend in a good year or so, and had only called him once or twice in between. True, Trunks didn't necessarily make any attempts to keep in contact with him, either, but that wasn't a particularly good excuse. Besides, he _did_ miss Trunks, though he was loathe to admit it.

But he was a bit more curious about the other Briefs. He hadn't seen Bra longer than he hadn't seen Trunks—it was as if the younger girl had been purposefully trying to avoid him. Sure, he had heard bits and pieces of information from Trunks—apparently, she had been starting up her own business, and all of her time was completely taken, but...

Well, it was weird, to say the least. They all used to stick to each other like glue, Goten and Trunks spending nearly every minute of the day together, later with Uub, and once in awhile with Pan trailing after them and demanding to also train. He remembered when she was sixteen and had finally reached Super-Saiyajin, and how proud everyone had been of her.

Bra, Pan, and Marron also always had a strange relationship, the three close but equally as competitive as the boys. It was always Bra that centered in the competition—trying to top Marron with her looks and Pan with her fighting abilities. She was always so secretive about her skills, but Bra was half-Saiyajin—more than Pan—and the daughter of Vegeta, the Prince of their proud race. She had achieved Super-Saiyajin before even _Pan_ at the young age of ten. But from what Trunks had told him, after she had proved that she _could_ turn Super-Saiyajin, she had stopped training. Right then and there. And then she never even brought it up again, as if it had never happened. A silly grin touched his lips. The Briefs always had to be the best at everything.

He missed those days, when he was able to forget everything and just have fun. He didn't have to put on any airs or act suave and sophisticated like he had to around Paris' friends. He could be _himself_, goofy and silly and playful, who could most likely out eat anybody.

Especially when he was hungry.

And he was really hungry.

Goten's eyes widened and he plugged in the rice cooker, cursing himself for losing himself in his thoughts and forgetting to start making his food. Now he would have to wait even _longer_ to eat, and his stomach was already attempting to consume itself. Once again grumpy, he opened his refrigerator door to scrounge up some cooking materials.

But despite his thoughts turning back to food, he couldn't help but to smile thoughtfully. Perhaps they would all get together, again. That would be nice.

ooooo

Trunks sighed and stared blankly at his spreadsheet. All day he had been particularly irritable, though he couldn't exactly explain why. Even Pan asked him what got his panties in a twist, and all he had done in response was to glare at her with something akin to hatred. She had backed off after that.

The worst part was he had no idea why he was so incensed. He had absolutely no reason to be. Everything was going good for the company right now, the stocks were up, and his work was _already_ getting easier now that Pan was there to help, what with the lack of the phone ringing every five seconds. But for some damn reason, he was _still_ having trouble concentrating.

And that was why he was smoking again.

It was such a horrible habit, one that his entire family would kill him for if they had found out. His father would most likely be disgusted that he would poison his warrior's body like so, his mother would be furious that he had picked up a habit that was a risk for his health (not that fighting mass murders was any better, but that didn't matter because it had been so long since an alien had tried to kill everyone. Oh, Dende, was his life surreal), and his sister would...probably think he was gross. Like some bug, or something. He smiled slightly, and ashed his cigarette in its tray.

And then nearly choked on it when Goten stormed in, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"You're _smoking_."

Trunks stared at his black haired friend (who he hadn't seen in a very long time), cigarette pursed between his lips and eyes very, very wide.

"I knew it! I knew it right when I walked in and saw Pan glaring at the door. I could smell it. Do you know how _bad_ that is for you?"

"Goten...?"

"Your lungs are going to fall out." Goten had his arms crossed over his chest and he was glaring with every ounce of his body. "And then Pan's lungs are going to fall out, too, because you're smoking so close to her, and then I'm going to kill you for killing my favorite niece. What the hell are you thinking?"

Trunks set the cigarette delicately in the ashtray, not quite finished with it yet. He stood up, straightened his suit, then grinned broadly at his friend, strolling towards him. "It's good to see you, too."

As predicted, Goten's glare softened, and he gave Trunks and brief, brotherly hug. "I'm going to murder you if you keep smoking, you know."

"I'll keep that in mind. What're you doing here?"

"Pan told me she was working here." At that, Goten's glare came back for some reason, but Trunks ignored it in favor of picking up his cigarette again. Never mind that that just angered his friend more. "And she told me to stop by and visit you. If I knew you would be smoking, I would have brought a fire dispenser. I thought you dropped that in college?"

"I did. For awhile. But working here isn't exactly easy, you know? It's challenging and a pain, and nothing like what I'm really good at. No fighting, no monsters to beat, no _nothing_ except numbers and meetings." Leave it to Goten to get him to get all his frustrations out as soon as the black haired man stepped in. It had always been like that, usually through sparring. But they couldn't spar in his office. His mom would have his head.

"So you're smoking because you're bored."

"Basically."

Goten sighed and relaxed a bit. "Pan's right. You really have lost it."

Trunks opened his mouth to argue, annoyed that Pan was implying that he was crazy. But then he closed it again when he realized that, sadly enough, she was right. "I have, haven't I? I need to get out of here and—"

"Get laid?" Goten interjected, cheerfully.

"—that too. But I was going to say, 'have a vacation'."

"Well, I can't help you in the whole sex part, but perhaps we could set something up for a vacation." Was Trunks imagining things, or did Goten look like he was scheming something? "We all need to get together again, anyway. I miss our old group—and I think a vacation would be a great way for all of us to spend some time together. We could do some sparring, even. I've been hankering for a good fight. Pan is an excellent sparring partner, but it's just not the _same_, you know?"

He did know. Trunks loved fighting with his father, but sometimes Vegeta was a bit _too_ rough. He couldn't accuse his father of that, though—Vegeta had been used to sparring with Goku, and Trunks would never be a match for the dead Saiyajin. "Okay, shoot. But I don't think the whole 'all of us getting together' bit is really going to work out." Hell, Pan and he couldn't even really stand being in the same _room_ together. It just wasn't going to happen.

"I'm sure you could handle all of us for a couple of days, Trunks."

"I value my life, you know."

"Come off it. It'll be fun. Just...okay, one day. With me, you, Uub and the girls."

"It would be a _huge_ disaster, Goten. We're all so different now, and you know it." Actually, he really didn't know anything. It had been _too_ long, maybe.

But Goten was intent on ignoring him, and Trunks wondered briefly what _was_ it with everyone playing oblivious. Was he becoming that hard to pay some attention to?

"We could go to the park or something. Have a picnic."

"In case you've forgotten, it's freezing outside, Goten."

"Like that's really a big deal." At Trunks' look, though, he relented. "Okay, fine. We can get in snowball fights. Come _on_, Trunks."

Trunks sighed and took a moment to drag deeply from his cigarette. "Fine. I'll think about it, okay?"

"Which means yes." Goten grinned. "Awesome. Let's go have lunch, now. I'm starving."

Trunks put out his cigarette and smiled ruefully. He would have to thank Pan later for having her uncle come visit him—he hadn't realized how long it had been since he had seen his best friend, and now that Goten was there, he was already feeling a little bit more relaxed. Even though his best friend _was_ annoying as hell, sometimes.

ooooo

Pan was completely worn out. She wasn't used to the early hours Trunks was quite yet, and it was doing a toll on her appearance. Her face was paler than normal and she was starting to look like a raccoon, what with the rings around her eyes. It had only been two days, but it felt like she'd been awake for all of those forty-eight hours.

"This won't do," a slender, Chinese man said, putting his hands on his hips and giving Pan a thorough look. "She's beautiful, but much too exhausted."

"That's what you're for, Brit. Hide the exhaustion," Bra argued, looking at her stylist.

Pan froze in mid step, carefully placing her purse down and giving Bra a wary look. "What are you talking about?"

Bra grinned and waved her hands, strolling forward and linking arms with her best friend. "Nothing you need to worry about right now. Come on, let me show you around a bit and get you a cup of coffee."

"Bra, don't you lie to me—"

"We'll deal with it later. Come on, don't you want to see my accomplishments?"

Pan sighed and reluctantly gave in, following her blue haired friend as Bra pointed out every little detail they came across. They reached a glass elevator, and Pan peered out, curious. She could almost get a good look at the expanse of the building, but it wasn't enough to take in all of it.

"This is _amazing_, Bra," Pan breathed, as they strolled onto a walkway over a humongous warehouse-like studio. From above, they could see everything. In one corner, models were doing shoots. In another, there was a multitude of drawing-boards set up. People were moving around everywhere, carting huge rolls of fabric, running back and forth while rapidly shouting in their headpieces, maneuvering humongous cameras around in order to get a better view of some model or another. She turned to Bra, giving her an awed grin. "Really. It's absolutely brilliant."

"I know." But Bra's smile was almost shy. "Thanks." She started walking again, quickly, giving Pan a verbal tour of her studio while pointing things out that Pan had previously not noticed. The walls were absolutely covered with designs of gorgeous outfits that took Pan's breath away, not just because of their appearances, but because it was _Bra_ who had created such genius works of art. Huge light structures covered the ceiling, using special bulbs Bulma had created in order to give the studio a natural feel. Men and women were lined up in high stools, with make-up artists turning them into works of art.

"I'm in love with this place," Pan said, eyes huge as she leaned over the railing. "Bra, this is _incredible_."

"Then you'll agree to model for me?"

Pan was slightly thrown off by that. She gave Bra a shifty look. "You planned this all along, didn't you?"

"Of course. I _told_ you we were doing a shoot today."

"Here?"

"No, in a park. Did you know it snowed a couple days ago? Well, of course you did. Anyway, there's this beautiful area that's absolutely untouched—I know it is, because I made sure it would be—and we're doing the shoot there. You _need_ to be a part of it, please?"

Pan stared at the multitude of people beneath her. "You owe me."

"Yes!" Bra threw her arms around her friend, giving her a tight hug. "I knew you'd give in!"

"Only because you are _so_ annoying. Why couldn't you have Marron model for you?"

"Marron does my summer clothing, that's why."

Pan gave her a disbelieving look, then smiled. "You're a real piece of work, Bra. Okay, so what next?"

"Now we do your make-up. And, well, your hair. And change your clothing."

The look of horror on Pan's face caused Bra to grin sadistically.

"Wait. What?"

ooooo

Goten strolled across the park, relaxed and cheerful. It was a beautiful day, warm for the winter, Paris had returned from visiting her parents (which was a good and bad thing), and he was in the middle of some strange reunion that he had dreamed of being in the middle of for a long time. Not only _that_, but he had a huge lunch with his best friend, and his stomach was nicely full. To say the least, Goten was satisfied.

He could even look over the fact that Pan had forgotten to call him to let him know about the sudden change of plans. What the hell, he needed a good walk. Even one that took him to the other side of town. He could forgive Pan, after ribbing her a bit, of course. Besides, some nice (highly attractive) lady had shown him around Bra's studio a bit. And, well, asked him if he wanted to go to dinner, which he had politely declined. It was rather worth it, just to see the shock on the girl's face. He had a feeling she rarely got rejected.

Pan was in the middle of an expanse of snow, untouched by footprints of any kind. She looked...different, to say the least. Much older. Her hair was layered and even in the distance he had to cross, he could tell that she was wearing a bit of make-up. And her dress was...flattering. A bit too provocative in his opinion, but perhaps he was just being the protective uncle. It was a Chinese style, glittering perhaps with sequins or jewels, and slits coming up on both sides of her dress to her thighs. She didn't look at all cold, which could explain at least partially the awe on the faces of the photographers.

He had to grin, though. Though Pan _did_ look phenomenal, she was standing as if someone had glued a pole to her back and smiling as if she had never smiled in her life. His poor niece looked as if she wanted to run away as fast as she could. In fact, that was probably exactly what she would do, if pride didn't hold her in place. If anything, Pan was no coward, even if it meant she had to act completely like someone she wasn't.

Bra obviously wasn't satisfied with the way Pan was posing, because to Goten's surprise, she floated towards Pan and into his view. He hadn't noticed her earlier, and seeing her so suddenly gave him a slight start. She looked almost like an apparition, pale and ethereal and like his niece, dressed in white. Her floating explained the lack of footprints around Pan, and he embarrassedly had to admit that he hadn't earlier realized.

But with her blue hair drifting gently behind her, and that serene smile he could see on her profile, Goten felt as if his heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat. Those four years did a wonder on the gangly teenager he had last seen. She had matured into a gorgeous young woman, curvy enough to make an hourglass jealous, lips full and kissable and—

"Oh, crap!"

He was checking out his best friend's little sister.

What the hell was he thinking! Was he really that hypocritical? Hadn't he just recently been pissed at Trunks for hiring his niece as his secretary? And here he was, checking out _Bra_ as if she was some grade A piece of meat that he could eat all up—

Dende. Did he really just compare Bra to meat? He grinned sardonically to himself, shaking his head. Maybe Trunks' insanity was rubbing off on him.

Bra was talking to Pan, but as keen as his hearing was, he couldn't exactly make out what she was saying. But whatever she said seemed to work wonders, because Pan laughed and relaxed immediately, her smile becoming much more natural. Bra floated back and out of the scene, and Goten followed her with his eyes. She looked particularly proud of herself, most likely because she had managed to snag Pan and dress her up. Something she had probably wanted to do every since they were little. He felt himself smile with her as if they were sharing some sort of private joke, even though she probably didn't even know he was there.

The cameras went off, bright flashes temporarily disturbing the peaceful scene in the park. The cameramen were moving all over the place, catching his niece from several different viewpoints. She seemed to be following directions shouted by Bra, because once in awhile she would change her pose, drifting towards a tree and lifting her hand up as if to touch an icicle—and as cheesy as it sounded, Pan made it look almost magically sophisticated. Several more shots later, and she was leaving the area, heading towards Bra and looking relieved. He seemed to have caught the tail-end of the shoot. Perhaps it was a practice run? He knew nothing about modeling, despite Paris' brief tangle with it back when they were younger.

It was amazing how things changed since then. Paris was like a completely different entity to him now, almost like a stranger. She was bitter now, unhappy with a lot of things. Her appearance. If she had some wrinkle or other. If she looked fat. Why they weren't married. If he still loved her. Why he didn't get a more meaningful job that paid better. One thing after another after another. It had gotten to the point where he _didn't_ love her. Hell, he could hardly stand to be around her. Mid-thirties and going through a midlife crisis. But he couldn't bring himself to break it off with her. He had...settled. The thought was unnerving.

A shriek threw him out of his thoughts, successfully dragging his attention back to the girls. Just in time to see Bra running full speed towards him, ignoring the fact that she was most likely ruining a pair of extremely expensive boots. She was laughing and looking near tears at the same time, arms thrown open wide.

He laughed too, once again thinking about that private joke that they both shared that really didn't exist, caught her in a huge hug, and promptly forgot that Paris even existed.

Neither of them noticed a camera go off.

"Goten!" Bra cried, all grins and happiness and femininity that lately had been lacking in his life. "Pan didn't tell me you were going to be here! You look _great_!" She hadn't left his arms yet, something that had not escaped his attention.

"Same goes to you." He couldn't stop smiling, despite how it made him feel slightly goofy. "How have you been?"

She pulled back (seemingly reluctant, but he didn't want to read too much into it), and he forced his disappointment down. She felt _way_ too good in his arms. All the right places pressed up against all _his_ right places—

He cut off that train of thought immediately.

"I've been great! I opened my own business, and we've just got out on the market."

Goten nodded enthusiastically, though his smile turned slightly rueful. "I was just there, actually. It's incredible, Bra. I'm really proud of you." She looked slightly flustered, a very tiny blush stretching from cheek to cheek, and making her look even _more_ sexy. Quickly, he changed the subject, once again not liking the direction his mind was going. Dende, was this girl giving off pheromones or something? "Pan didn't exactly tell me that you guys were going to be at the park."

"Oh, no!" But there was apologetic laughter in Bra's eyes, and Goten instantly forgave Pan for that little mishap just for that look. "I'm so sorry! That was partially my fault. I've been dragging Pan all over the place, and I didn't give her a chance to call you and let you know."

"It's okay." He waved a dismissing hand, not taking his eyes off Bra's face. "It was a nice walk, anyway."

Bra linked her arm though Goten's, pressing her side against his. She was surprisingly warm for the dress she was wearing, most likely due to the fact that she had raised her ki to keep her body heat up.

Again, they didn't notice a camera go off.

"What have you been doing?" asked she, conversationally while she led him back to Pan and the photographers.

"I opened a dojo," he replied, slightly embarrassed. It didn't sound at all interesting compared to what Bra had achieved at such a young age, but he was still proud of his accomplishments. "I focus on the basics—you know, hand-to-hand combat, but also on Kaio-ken. The kids already have a handle on ki, they just need to learn to control it better."

Bra was silent for a moment, and Goten's smile became a little forced. She probably wasn't impressed at all. He softened the blow for himself by mentally insisting that it didn't matter, that he was living out his life dream and that was what counted, not the opinion of his friends. Well, one of his friends. Trunks was suitably impressed, and said he'd like to visit and maybe help teach the weekend classes, Pan was a constant visitor to his dojo, helping with the girl's division with Videl, Marron helped design it, Uub actually taught the younger divisions and—well, Paris thought it was stupid, but Paris wasn't a friend, anyway.

"Goten," Bra breathed, and he looked down at her. "That is so fucking cool."

Well, that wasn't what he expected at all. He scratched the back of his head nervously. "Thanks!"

"No, I really mean it. You _have_ to take me to see it one day."

"Of...of course!" This girl was turning him into a prepubescent teenager again, all nervous and hormonal. He had long lost all control of this situation. All actions that may result after this must not be blamed on him, rather on the beautiful woman beside him who was doing everything she could to drive him crazy.

Luckily for him, they had reached the group. Bra pulled away from him, leaving his side pleasantly warm and her scent still so near him. Pan looked at the two of them calculatingly, and Goten put on his best oblivious look. That was usual for him, so at least it wouldn't rouse too many suspicions.

"Sorry, Goten. Bra didn't let me out of her sight for a minute," Pan said, but there was a look in her eyes that promised she would interrogate him later. The ignorance card was usually hard to play on Pan, and he resigned himself to a painful fate. He wasn't about to let up on everything he had recently been feeling—hell, most of it was likely contributed to hormones, anyway.

Well, that was what he was trying to convince himself.

"It's okay. Everything is...all right." Not at all. This had long ago left the realm of 'all right' for the realm of 'holy shit, what the hell is going on?'

But he stood there, back straight, and grinned. Situation normal, all fucked up. This was one hell of a personal dilemma he was going to have to work through.

_end chapter two_

Okay, so you might have noticed a couple different things in this chapter. For instance, Bra and Pan have already reached Super Saiyajin. Why did I add this in? I like taking a more casual approach to their powers. Also, I'm straying away from the childhood crush bit, as much as I love that plot.

The next chapter should be coming out soon. I've already got several pages of it done, so hopefully I'll be able to post it in a couple of days. Oh, and Happy Holidays to everybody!


	3. Sweet Talk

**A/N:** Oh, I hope this chapter makes sense. I've gotten myself a bit of a cold (again). In any case, Happy Holidays, everyone.

ooooo

"She looks beautiful," Bulma breathed, taking the picture gently from her daughter.

Evening found Trunks, Bra, and Bulma lounging around in the Briefs' living room. Bra had insisted Pan come over, and she promised she would just as soon as she had a talk with her boyfriend (at which Trunks had sneered, but had hidden with the newspaper, his favorite new alcove). She had also tried to get Marron over, but the blonde had a project she had to finish that night.

Bra had already had the pictures from the shoot printed, and the three were inspecting them. Well, Bulma and Bra were. Trunks was just bumming around on the couch.

He didn't get up from his perch on the couch just yet, still debating whether he should fulfill his curiosity and look at the picture. He didn't _care_, per se, he just wanted to know what all the commotion was about. He tried to fight his interest off with lethargy, but his nosiness won and he waved his sister over without a word. Bra gently took the picture from their mother's hands, as if it was Pan herself she was picking up and not a photo of her, and sat by her brother. Trunks took it from her, equally as careful.

"She looks weird."

Both Bulma and Bra looked highly offended, but Trunks ignored them in favor of inspecting the picture. Pan's fingers were delicately holding down the collar of her sweater, revealing a slender neck and a detailed view of her sharp collarbones. It was her face that was the central point of the picture, however. Her lips were parted and dashed with red, and her brown eyes were wide and framed with thick black eyelashes. But it was her expression that got him. Completely vulnerable, completely unlike the loud and raucous young woman who filed his papers and answered his calls and made his coffee so perfect that not even he could make a better cup.

"Trunks! That is so _rude_!" his mother snapped, making a snatch at the photo. But he moved it away from her, not even looking up from the glossy paper.

Past her make-up and beyond those thick eyelashes, that face of hers had planted a small thought in his mind. An idea—a memory he would never have—fed his vision for a moment. He could see her, almost, beneath him, giving him that look under the brilliant moonlight filtering in through his window. He could almost feel her under him, body soft and pliant, hot enough to sear his skin.

"She does," he argued, then broke the connection with his dream and sent himself back to reality, handing the picture back to Bra. She took it protectively, both women glaring at him. Forget woman scorned. He had just insulted an entire gender. "What? She does. She doesn't look at all like herself."

"Oh." And like, the anger seemed to be washed away from both women's faces and was replaced with understanding. Which, of course, completely confused Trunks.

"She just doesn't..." He was still on the defensive, but he didn't know how to finish the sentence without repeating himself, nor was he completely sure what his mother's and Bra's reactions meant.

"I think that means he finds her attractive," Bulma speculated, sitting down on the loveseat.

"I'll second that." Bra nodded, carefully slipping the picture back into the envelope. He took it from her, glaring.

"That's not what I meant." Carefully, he took out the pictures, looking through each one. They were all...sexy, and damn, was it hard for him to think that. This was _Pan_, after all. But some of those poses provoked a couple more naughty thoughts, and he scowled and put the prints away again. Shit. It was scary to think his mother and sister were right. "I just think she looks different, and it's weird."

"Very different," Bra agreed, making the word sound more like an innuendo than a description.

"Very _weird_," Trunks corrected, glaring.

"Different."

"Weird."

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Bra and Trunks were siblings. It was their petty little arguments that served as a great reminder, however.

"Different."

"Weird."

"And you two are both stubborn as hell."

Trunks snapped his mouth shut, looking more than a little abashed. Out of all the people who could have possibly stopped them, it _had_ to be the subject of their argument herself—Pan Son. She looked normal again, hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, face fresh and free of any make-up, and dressed in a pair of jeans and a striped sweater. Lips upturned in that sardonic smile he was so used to. Normal, safe Pan Son. No more fucking sex kitten.

Except, for some unknown reason, she _still_ looked desirable.

He chalked it up as insanity and stood up, needing to get away from them. He didn't want to hear what Pan had to say about her little boyfriend, be it good or bad. "As much as I love you three, there's more than enough estrogen in this room to drive any testosterone away. If you need me, I'll be acting all manly in the GR." Jokingly, he puffed up his chest and strolled out, flexing his muscles with each step.

"He got that from his father," Bulma attested, and the girls laughed.

**Helter-Skelter**  
Chapter Three: Sweet Talk  
by Clara

"Master Son!"

Goten straightened up, towel slung across his neck. Gel, a charming little girl of about six, was racing towards him at top speed. She was one of his most promising students, eager and quick to learn. She skidded to a halt before she could collide with his legs, and bowed deeply.

"I had a lotta fun today," Gel panted, straightening and looking up at him and smiling brightly. Goten smiled back. Whenever he had children, he hoped beyond hope they would be like Gel. Polite and sweet and energetic and already catty as all hell.

"I'm glad you did," Goten said brightly, ruffling her hair. "You've improved on your high kick. Have you been practicing?"

"Yes, Master Son!"

"Good." He crouched down so that they were at eyelevel, not wanting her to get a crick in her neck. But before he could say anything else about her skills, she was off again on a completely different tangent.

"I've been practicing my ki control too, just like you said. I blew up one of Mommy's vases last time, so I practiced a LOT." She emphasized just how much by stretching out her arms as wide as she could. "Miss Paris is here." The sudden change of topics nearly threw Goten off balance, and Gel leaned forward, confidentially. "She's _mad_."

"Thanks for the warning, kid." He straightened up, looking wary. Uub was walking in from the lobby, his normally cheerful face grave. Goten momentarily lifted his eyes to the ceiling, then smiled brightly down at Gel. "Don't worry about Miss Paris, okay Gel? I'll take care of it. Is your daddy here to pick you up yet?"

"Nuh uh."

"Uub will watch you until he is, okay? He can show you a couple more moves, if you'd like."

"Uh huh!" Already the little girl was off, running towards one of the practice dummies. Goten made his way towards Uub.

"You're in trouble," said Uub, skipping straight past the greetings.

"What did I do this time?" Goten scratched the back of his head, irritably. He had desperately been trying to estrange himself from his girlfriend, but to no avail. No matter how hard he tried to avoid her, she always managed to find something new to yell about.

"Have you seen today's Daily?" Daily was a popular magazine that did just what it said—came out daily. It was much like a newspaper, concentrating on current events such as the stock market and the news, but also had an unhealthy affiliation with the rich and the famous. It was much like a standard tabloid, if not quite as outlandish.

"No, I don't read that magazine." He raked his fingers through his hair, looking irritable. "Besides, it's only ten o'clock. I've been here and my apartment all day."

"Well, I guess you'll find out sooner than later." Uub gave him a pitying look. "She's waiting in the lobby."

Goten sighed, confused and having a feeling he wouldn't get anything else out of his friend. "Thanks." Uub patted his shoulder, as if someone dear had died, then made his way to the stray kids who were still waiting for their parents to pick them up.

Goten sighed and slouched towards the lobby. His good mood was already starting to dissipate.

He barely stepped through the door and she was already yelling.

"What the hell do you think you're doing! Do you _know_ what you've just done to my reputation!"

"Paris," Goten said, gently. He rubbed his temples, already feeling the beginning of a headache form. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with _me_, Mister! Did you think you could hide this little...affair for long!" She was spitting and hissing like a furious cat, claws ready.

"_What_ affair?" His own temper was on the rise. How dare she accuse him of something like that?

"Oh, that's rich. That's fucking rich! Have you grown tired of me! Am I too old for you!"

"Paris, will you quiet down?" Goten hissed, glaring. The parents' of the students from his morning class were starting to walk in, and all of them were looking at them with interest. Rather, at _him_ with interest. He missed something. That was the only thing he could think of. And whatever he had missed was something big.

"Don't you dare tell me to quiet down, you bastard! Here! Since you insist on playing so fucking _dumb_—" Goten winced again, hoping beyond hope that the kids couldn't hear them, "—look at this, you cheating, lying, prick!" She threw a copy of Daily at his chest as hard as she could, then turned around to sob loudly. He caught it before it fell and groaned.

On the cover, enlarged and incriminating, was a picture of Bra flinging herself in his arms. And, in large bold font at the bottom of the picture, "IS IT LOVE?" pretty much signed his death warrant.

"It's not what you think," Goten said, flatly. He was staring down at the paper with disbelief. How funny. They had made the cover without even doing anything.

Paris whirled on him, eyes alight with fury and lips pulled back in an animalistic snarl. She didn't look all that pretty anymore, face twisted in anger and betrayal. "What the hell am I supposed to think!"

"Well," Goten continued, coolly. "You could remember just who Bra Briefs is in my life." She seemed to wilt a little bit at that, confused. He was trying to keep his voice calm without sounding patronizing. "Have you forgotten already? It's been awhile, but I didn't think you would forget the _Briefs_."

"I know who they are." She was on the defensive now, confused and angry that he would turn the tables on her like that.

"Well, then you should know that Bra Briefs' older brother, Trunks, is my best friend, and has been my best friend since I was practically born." He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, glaring at her. "The Briefs are practically part of my family. Since when did you give a damn what the paparazzi did? Of course they're going to try and dig up as much dirt on the Briefs as they can, they're the world's richest people."

"Oh, hell." Immediately, as if the wind was taken from her sails, Paris deflated. "I'm sorry, Goten, it's just that all my friends have started talking because of this, and she's just so young."

Goten continued to frown. "You need to quit obsessing with your age, Paris. You're still beautiful, and just because you're not twenty anymore doesn't change that. Now, I need to go assure the parents that everything is alright." He gave her a slightly accusing look, at that.

"I said I was sorry," Paris said again, starting to look irritable again. "And I _don't_ obsess with my age." But she picked up the magazine again, straightened out her shirt, and walked out, without a goodbye, a kiss, or an 'I love you'. Watching her leave, he couldn't help but to feel a bit hypocritical. Hadn't he just recently been thinking inappropriate thoughts about Bra? And there he was, chastising his girlfriend for being suspicious. Goten sighed. He was going to have to patch things up with her, if he wanted his life normal again.

Even though he had a feeling things had already gotten out of control.

ooooo

"You're going to get fat."

Trunks looked up, surprised. _He_ had been ignoring _her_, the jerk. Trunks was sitting at the edge of her desk, munching on some mochi and Pan, of course, was desperately trying to ignore him, but this was proving to be futile. It was hard to disregard someone who was acting as a paperweight to the paperwork she was supposed to file.

"I don't think so."

"You will. You're going to end up round as a whale—"

"Whales aren't round."

"And when that day comes, I'm going to gloat. A lot."

Trunks took a bite from his mochi, looking thoughtful. "I don't think it's possible for me to get fat. Saiyajin metabolism is pretty remarkable."

"You will, if you keep eating like that."

Trunks grinned, probably just to annoy her. Which he was doing a good job of. "I think you just want me to offer you some. I _was_ going to, but now I don't think I will."

"Your hips are going to get humongous." She was frowning at having been found out. So what if she wanted some? She hadn't had mochi in ages.

"I think those are your own internal fears coming out." He took another bite, expression that of exaggerated bliss.

Pan gave up on trying to type and swung her chair back so that she could face Trunks. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"I'm sure I do. But I'm bored."

"Bored. The president of Capsule Corps. doesn't get _bored_."

"How would you know? You're not the president."

"Yes, but, don't you have like, five billion things you need to do?"

Trunks looked thoughtful, finishing off the last bit of mochi and licking his fingers. "Well, let me rephrase that. I'm bored because I'm procrastinating."

Pan snorted. "Lazy."

"And? I'm allowed to be, some days." Trunks stood up and stretched, and Pan found herself looking at his rear. To see if it had gotten any bigger from all those sweets he'd been eating, of course. Just earlier he had come back with a box full of éclairs, straight from France. And ate them all sitting right at the corner of her desk, not even offering her one. But there was no change at all, which was really no surprise. Perhaps it would take a couple of days. Hopefully. "Want any coffee?"

Her astonished look seemed to take him slightly aback.

"What?"

"Since when did _you_ offer _me_ coffee?"

"I'm feeling generous, and it's a once in a lifetime thing. Take it or leave it."

"Promise you won't mess with it?"

Trunks rolled his eyes. "I'm not thirteen anymore, Pan."

"Yeah, but you are a sadistic fuck. All right, I'll take a cup."

"More cream, less sugar?"

Pan blinked, surprised. "Right on the dot."

He set the box of mochi in front of her, several still in there. "Here, have the rest. I'll be right back."

She stared at his retreating back until the door closed behind him, then looked down at the box in front of her. He had been acting especially weird this morning, much less distant and a lot more talkative. He kept engaging her in repartee, teasing her until she finally snapped at him and trapping her in idle talk for several minutes until she would remind him that _one_ of them had to work. He would go quiet for a little bit, eating his sweets, before starting the cycle all over again.

And before that, the night before, he had made some joke about estrogen and testosterone and had strutted out of the room as if he was some sort of tomcat. Was it her imagination, or was Trunks loosening up? Maybe Goten's visit had done him some good. That thought was relieving, to say the least. And it made her happy. As much as she was loathe to admit it, she missed the old Trunks she knew, the one who used to ruffle her hair whenever he saw her, the one entertain the both of them for hours with shadow puppets, the one who used to buy her ice cream when she had a bad day, when some person or another insulted her for something petty.

This Trunks hardly had the time of day for her, and that hurt. This Trunks would much rather insult her than compliment her, despite her achievements or how amazing she looked. This Trunks looked at her funny.

She sighed and resumed typing, irritable that her thoughts seemed to mostly revolve around Trunks since she had started work as his secretary. She should be thinking of _Tote_ at odd hours, but it seemed like now she hardly thought of him at all, even when they were talking on the phone.

But hey, at least all of her thoughts about Trunks weren't exactly positive. Most of them involved an unhealthy amount of violence. That thought caused her to grin slightly maliciously, which was the first thing Trunks saw when he got back.

"Dreaming of beating me up?"

Pan glanced at Trunks, smile falling away. "Not quite." As close as she had been to Trunks, she wasn't exactly going to tell him that yes, it pleased her to imagine fighting with Trunks. Perhaps it was her Saiyajin side that supplied her with these malevolent thoughts. Instead, she swiveled her chair to face him, picking up a mochi that she had previously forgotten about.

Trunks had two mugs off coffee in his hands, and a rolled up paper still in its plastic wrap under his arm. He settled back on her desk, handing her the cup of coffee and tossing the paper to the side.

"Thanks," she murmured, taking a sip from her coffee. Perfect. Better than she could have made it. Trunks mimicked her, taking a long drink from his own, but he ended up frowning and putting his mug to the side.

"From now on, only you can make my coffee. I seem to have forgotten how."

"What're you talking about? You just made the best cup of coffee I've ever had."

Trunks gave her a perplexed look, then seemed to choose to drop it. "How did everything go between you and your boyfriend?"

Was it her imagination, or did his voice drop at least twenty degrees every time he mentioned Tote?

"He says he forgives me." She was already on her second mochi, half of it gone.

"What?"

"That's what I said. He said he forgave me for getting a job and refusing to move in with him." At Trunks' disbelieving look, she merely shrugged and finished off the last bit of mochi. "I told him I hadn't apologized for being independent, and I wasn't going to any time soon. We had a bit of an argument for twenty or so minutes."

"And then?" Trunks asked, venturing to take another sip of his coffee. Once again unsatisfied, he set the mug back down.

"Well, after we finished screaming, we had a much more calm discussion, in which I told him that he would just have to accept that there's no way I'm going to be moving in with him any time soon. He told me he wouldn't wait forever."

"I can't believe you're actually dating this prick." Trunks shook his head, seeming disappointed. At once, Pan was on the defensive.

"He's not a prick. Just...just...he wants to move quickly, apparently."

"Are you that blind? He's a control freak. He wants you to be the perfect little housewife."

"He is _not_ a control freak!"

"Oh, uh huh. Let's see, he doesn't want you to have a job. And...I'm guessing you haven't even told him just _where_ you're working?" Pan fidgeted, embarrassed. She hadn't, but for a very good reason. No sane guy would be happy for their girlfriend working as _Trunks' secretary_. "I didn't think so. And he wants you to move in with him. _And_, to top it all off, when you don't do any of this, he expects you to apologize."

Pan swallowed angrily, not knowing how to argue that one. Tote _did_ sound awfully controlling, but how could Trunks know anything about their relationship? Sure, there were some rocks in the road, but she was _happy_ for the most part, and how dare he make her doubt her happiness. She had never had a guy dote on her so lovingly, especially not one as attractive and wonderful as Tote.

Dende. She was _not_ going to let Trunks ruin her life in that aspect.

"As if you have any room to talk," she hissed. Trunks looked down at her, blue eyes dark and angry, and she had no idea why he was so mad.

"What the hell did you say?"

"You heard me, Mr. High-and-Mighty. We haven't seen each other for _four_ years, and you didn't even say hi to me that first time you called! You treat me like shit! You call me weird! It's like everything we've gone through has been reduced to nothing!"

Trunks slammed his palms on her desk, but she didn't even flinch. "I'm your _boss_!"

"You were my friend, first!" She was trembling with fury, and somewhere in the middle of their yelling match she had gotten to her feet. She couldn't stand the idea of looking up at him anymore, wanting desperately for them to once see eye to eye.

They glared at each other now, unable to think of more things to yell at each other for without repeating themselves. There were tears of anger stinging the back of Pan's eyes, but she refused to let them fall and give him the satisfaction.

"I took this job because I thought I had an opportunity." Even to her own ears, her voice sounded hurt and betrayed. "But now I'm just stuck here under you."

Trunks pulled away, as if stricken. He turned around abruptly, his shoulders tense. "You can't just move up in this industry through connections. I'm not going to play favorites because of our history together." He said all of this with his back to her. "You have to prove yourself before I promote you."

Pan sunk back into her chair, small body still shaking with adrenaline. She had been all but ready to fight him and oh, what a disaster that would have been. Three days into her job, and surely she would have been fired. She sat completely still for a moment, lost and helpless, then slowly turned back to her computer and stared blankly at the screen. She didn't want the mochi anymore, or the coffee, or any of the little pity items Trunks would bring to her.

She was right in her first reaction, when she had told Bra "no". This had been a horrible idea. What was she thinking, working as Trunks' secretary? Saiyajins, no matter what rank, were not supposed to feel _inferior_ in any way. It was why Trunks was the head of his own corporation, why Bra owned her own production, and why Goten had opened his own dojo. Even her father led a research team on the historical aspects of otherworldly beings, and was putting together a series of textbooks. Pan was the only one who worked beneath someone.

And wasn't how it always was? First her family supporting her, then Tote wanting to take care of her, and now Trunks being her boss. Was she really that inept?

What did that say about her? Was it because she was only three-fourth's Saiyajin?

Oh, hell. She was getting an inferiority complex.

She could feel Trunks looking at her again, but she refused to meet his eyes.

"Pan..." He felt bad for her. It was as bad as him pitying her.

"I need to go back to work." Her words were quick and mechanical.

"Pan, I..."

"Thank you for the coffee and the mochi, Trunks." She didn't want to hear his apologies, because he had nothing to apologize for. She brought this upon herself. Already she had resumed typing, attempting to clear her mind from the horrible.

Trunks backed down, grabbing his coffee and the paper and walking back into his office. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Pan stopped typing and slumped over her keyboard. Moments later, she could smell the acrid scent of cigarette smoke, and she immediately felt guilty for being the one who drove Trunks back to his cigarettes.

She needed to find another job. One that she could the head of. The top-dog. One where she could be completely and utterly independent, without being under _anybody_. It would be hard, but everyone else had done it, and at such young ages.

Sighing, and feeling both determined and worthless, she worked on her project. She would think of something. She always did.

Her concentration was abruptly broken, however, when Trunks came storming out of his room, power level up and looking as if he was about to murder someone. Which, apparently, was what was on his mind, because he was stalking to the door with an evil intent on his face. Pan, completely forgetting about her hang-ups, leapt to her feet and rushed in front of Trunks, grabbing his shoulders in an attempt to stop him from murdering...whoever he was going to kill.

"Let me go." If anything, his power level spiked again.

"Trunks! What the hell is your problem!"

"I'm going to _kill_ him!"

"Who? What are you _talking_ about?"

Trunks lifted a copy of Daily and thrust it towards her face, nearly smacking her with it. She took it with one hand (there was no way she could focus with it pressed up against her nose like that), and groaned.

'IS IT LOVE?'

"Trunks, calm down. I can't believe you'd get this worked up over something this trivial."

Trunks spluttered, offended that she wouldn't take him serious.

"Come _on_, Trunks. Goten and Bra hadn't seen each other for years, of course they're going to hug like that. And the paparazzi is doing what it does best, digging up trash on your family."

"How do you know?" Trunks asked, accusingly.

"Because I was _there_, you doofus. Goten was picking me up from the model shoot, and they had a happy little reunion. Nothing else happened." She neglected to tell him about the look Goten had given to Bra, one that was almost hungry. And the 'come hither' look Bra was giving him didn't help matters any, either. Maybe there was some attraction between the two of them, but hopefully it was just primal and they wouldn't act on it. Whatever it was, she wasn't about to tell Trunks about it. She loved her uncle, and didn't want to sic Trunks on him.

Her words and her voice seemed to sooth him, however, because he relaxed and his power dropped. He raked his fingers through his hair, looking slightly abashed.

"I just want to protect her."

"I know, Trunks."

"She doesn't need another guy hurting her."

"There's nothing to worry about."

"I trust Goten, and all, but he does have a history with girls."

That struck her as kind of funny, since Goten was warning her about the same thing about Trunks. She kept the giggles at bay (this would be a bad time to get the giggles). "He won't do anything bad to her." He fully relaxed, and Pan carefully pulled her hands back. "You gonna be okay, Trunks?"

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks." He smiled uncertainly at her, and suddenly she remembered that they were at odd ends. She tried to smile back, but it wavered with the strain and died away before it could be anything real. She shrugged and went back to her desk, leaving Trunks standing there and looking as lost as she felt.

ooooo

"I knew I'd find you out here."

Trunks jumped slightly, looking around for some place he could put out his cigarette without being found out. But his attempts were futile, because Bulma merely placed a hand on his arm and shook her head. "I already knew you were smoking, Trunks. I may not have Saiyajin sense, but it's hard not to smell cigarette smoke when you're right next to it. Don't bother putting it out, I know as soon as I leave you'll just light another one."

"But Mom, it's disrespectful—"

"Please. Your father is one of the biggest bastards on this side of the universe, do you think I can't handle a little disrespectful?" Bulma leaned on the railing, pulling her shawl closer. "I think it's a disgusting habit, but you're a grown man now."

They were standing on the balcony at the north end part of their house, where Trunks had thought he could smoke without being caught. Apparently, however, his mother could hunt him down no matter where he was. He asked her about that once, and she shrugged and smiled and said that it was a mother's intuition.

"I'm sorry."

"It's...okay, sweetheart. Well, it's not, but hopefully whatever's stressing you enough to turn back to that horrible habit will get better. You know, you're more than welcome to talk to me about whatever you want, honey."

He was wondering when she would get around to it. "It's nothing, Mom."

"Bullshit."

Trunks raised his eyebrows, and Bulma gave him a slightly wry smile. "It looks like your father is rubbing off on me a little more than I'd like. Tell me what's wrong."

Trunks sighed and, despite being highly aware of what he was doing (and more than slightly ashamed by it), he took a long drag from his cigarette. "I don't know. I'm just really confused."

"About?"

"I got in this pretty bad argument with Pan earlier today. At one point it looked like she was ready to attack me, and honestly now that I think about it, I probably deserved it."

"Oh, Trunks, what did you do?"

"I called her boyfriend a prick." At Bulma's surprised look, Trunks shook his head. "Well, he is one. He's a control freak who doesn't want her to work and wants her to live with him in his perfect little house and be his perfect little wife."

Bulma remained quiet, allowing her son to continue.

"But she turned it around on me. Started calling _me_ the control freak. That I'd been a jerk to her ever since she stepped back into my life. I tried to tell her it was because I was her boss, but..."

"...but that was the wrong answer."

"Unbelievably wrong." He raked his fingers through his hair. "But she wasn't angry by then anymore. Just...really hurt. I don't know, Mom. Am I going about this the right way? I don't understand her anymore. She's changed so damn much."

Bulma hummed, playing with some snow on the railing. "I don't know. It seems to me she's not the only one who's changed."

"What do you mean?"

"You're both adults now, Trunks. I think it's important you remember that."

"You think I've changed?"

"We all grow up." Bulma turned to him, giving him a sad, nostalgic smile. "You haven't had real fun in a long time."

Trunks opened his mouth, but found that he was at a loss as of what to say.

"I think a vacation might do you good."

He closed his mouth and shook his head. Bulma was the second one to make such a suggestion in the span of two days. Capsule Corps. really _must_ be taking it's toll on him. Had he really become that big of a jerk? He sighed and flicked his cigarette over the railing.

"You know. I think you're right."

"Of course I am. Maybe you can meet some nice girl and settle down. Family is always a wonderful thing to have, Trunks."

Trunks groaned and shook his head. "The last thing I need in my life is another girl. I've got more than enough of you guys to deal with already."

Bulma hummed again. She was making a detailed little snowman, and Trunks, as usual, was more than a little impressed by his mother. You could place any type of material in her hands, and she would create something with it.

"It's just scary to think that you've settled already."

"There are no more adventures in my life."

The little snowman his mother was creating bore a strange resemblance to his father. He had to smile a bit—she even got his scowl down.

"That's why you've got to make some." Seemingly satisfied by the miniature version of Vegeta, Bulma stepped back and turned to her son. "Seems to me like things are already starting to get exciting, but perhaps I'm just a silly old woman." She kissed Trunks on his cheek and made her way back inside. "Don't stay out too long. Pedestrians may end up thinking you're weird for standing around in a shirt and jeans when it's freezing out here."

_end chapter three_

Well, seems like I'm putting out these chapters faster than I thought I would. Hopefully I won't run out of steam, though things may slow down soon due to a heavy work schedule, a cold, school starting up again soon and my social life. Anyway, I'll probably be introducing Marron soon—I've wanted to add her in, but she would probably be awkward in any of the earlier chapters. I may end up posting a Trunks/Pan or Goten/Bra one-shot in the near future.

Thank you to all who have taken the time to read this story! You have my adoration.


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